The Return of Frank Eaton
by Zanza8
Summary: A sequel based on my alternate ending to Alias Festus Haggen.
1. Chapter 1

_There were thirteen steps. He went up slowly but steadily, then hesitated as he reached the top. He swallowed hard, took his final step and looked out over the crowd. It was a mass of hostile faces, shouting and shaking their fists, except for the three closest to the gallows. They were silent and still as they stared up at him, and his eyes filled with tears. He had known, even while he was pleading with them to stay away, they would never leave him to face this alone. He gazed at each in turn, nodding to the marshal as he put an arm around Miss Kitty. Matthew nodded back, his arm tightening. For Miss Kitty he managed a smile and his heart warmed as she smiled back. They would be all right. He turned his attention to Doc as the rope was put around his neck and he was asked if he had any last words. He shook his head, his eyes clinging to Doc's-take care of yoreself, you old scutter! The old man pressed forward, the bond between them almost tangible. A hood was slipped over his head, shutting out the light, and the last thing he heard was the thud as the trapdoor was released..._


	2. Chapter 2

Festus bolted upright in a cold sweat. He shuddered and raised a trembling hand to wipe his forehead, his heartbeat slowing as he remembered he was in his own bunk in the little room at the back of the stable. He groped for a match, breaking two before he got a candle lit. It had been almost a month since he'd had that dream. At first it came every night and he would get up and go over to Doc's office to sit on the stairs. Sometimes he stayed there half the night, comforted by the knowledge the old man was only a knock on the door away. Gradually the deputy's nightmare faded until he could almost forget Rock Creek. Now it was back, more vivid than ever, and his heart started to race again as he wondered what it could mean.


	3. Chapter 3

Festus was still shaken the next morning as he headed over to the jail and he paused before going inside. As much as he had endured in Rock Creek, he honestly believed Matt had suffered more. After Festus was arrested for murder, the marshal accepted Judge Brooker's decision it was better for the deputy to be cleared of the charges than to live under a cloud. Matt had devoted his life to the law, and when his faith in the system resulted in Festus' death sentence, his reason collapsed under the blow and he staged a jailbreak that could have cost him his own life. For a long time after they got back to Dodge, the deputy had been aware of a forlorn apology in Matt's eyes every time he looked at him. Festus dreaded the thought of Matt finding out he was still troubled by what had happened and he took a deep breath, letting it out in a blithe whistle as he opened the door. "Mornin', Matthew." Festus went over to the coffeepot and checked it, then got a cup. "Anythin' interestin' in the mail, is there?"

"Matter of fact, there is," said the marshal, leafing through a stack of envelopes. "There's a letter here from Agent Doyle." The deputy's hand jerked and he gasped as hot coffee splashed on his wrist. Matt looked up in concern. "Festus, you all right?"

Festus set the cup down with a trembling hand, avoiding Matt's eyes. "Oh, 'course I am, Matthew. Just spilled a little dab of coffee is all."

Matt frowned. "Festus..."

The deputy forced a smile. "Matthew, you know I cain't read. Now if'n you don't tell me what's in that there letter, how do you s'pose I'm ever gonna find out?"

"Well..." The marshal hesitated, then turned back to the letter. "It's about Suzie Johnson. Seems she died last week in prison and Doyle thought we should know about it."

Festus bit his lip and poured another cup of coffee. He passed it to Matt, got a fresh cup for himself, and sat at the little table in front of the marshal's desk. They drank in silence for a moment, then the deputy said in a low voice, "Matthew, I don't want to speak ill of the dead...'specially not no woman...but why would that there Agent Doyle think we'd be havin' any soft feelin's 'bout Frank Eaton's wife dyin'?"

"It's not that." The marshal crumpled the paper nervously in his hands. "She made a deathbed confession."

"She did?" Festus was puzzled. "What in tarnation could she have to confess to? As I recollect, all her sins came out at her trial."

"According to Doyle she held something back. When you were arrested..." Matt took a deep breath, then went on as if delivering a report he had no personal knowledge of to a man he had never met. "Suzie Johnson contacted Frank Eaton in Mexico. He was still operating with some of his old gang down there and he double-crossed them, taking all the money they had and heading back to the states. It was his plan to wait until you were executed in his name, then disappear with his wife and start over."

Festus shook his head. "I know meaness don't just happen overnight but that Frank Eaton surely wuz in a class all to hisself." He frowned. "Matthew, I still don't understand what any of this has to do with us."

"Suzie Johnson didn't just die...she was shot when Eaton's gang tried to break her out of prison. They tracked Eaton and the money to a bank in Wichita...him and his wife used to live there and the bank manager knows them both by sight. He'll only release the money to one of them."

"So they tried bustin' her out so's they could get their money?" The deputy drank some more coffee. "Well, they sure did outsmart theirselves, 'cause with her and her husband both in their graves them fellers ain't never goin' to see so much as a nickel now."

Matt got up and came over to the table to sit next to Festus. "Doyle thinks they might come after you."

"Me!" Their eyes met and the deputy's shoulders slumped. "He could be right, Matthew. I ain't Frank Eaton but I could prob'ly get that money, couldn't I?"

"That's what Doyle's afraid of. The prison sent a posse after Eaton's men but they lost it two days out. They haven't been seen since and he's hoping they left the country, but if they know about you..."

The marshal's face was a study in misery and Festus leaned forward to put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Matthew, ain't you startin' to itch 'fore you been bit? Them fellers is prob'ly back acrosst the Mexican border by now."

"I hope so," said Matt glumly. "Doyle's trying to find some old wanted posters on them so we'll know what they look like in case they show up in town." He consulted the letter again. "No real descriptions, but their names are Hank Norton, Toby O'Hara, and Mike Watson."

"So all's we got to do is watch for three ornery strangers?" Festus grinned and after a moment the marshal smiled back at him. "Matthew, if'n we cain't handle some polecats that wuz foolish enough to ride with Frank Eaton I'm thinkin' it's time we turned in our badges."


	4. Chapter 4

Hank Norton turned away from the window in the Dodge House, his face thoughtful. His two friends, Mike Watson and Toby O'Hara, waited expectantly for his opinion and after a moment he gave it. "Well, boys, this Haggen looks enough like Frank to be his twin and I believe that bank manager would hand over the money if he asked for it, but do either of you got any thoughts on how to make him do it?"

Watson and O'Hara exchanged a look. "Why don't we just offer him a cut?" asked Watson.

Norton grinned sardonically. "First Frank robs us, now you want to pay some lawman to get your money back?"

"No." Watson grinned back. "Ain't no need to keep him alive after he gets the money, is there?"

O'Hara spoke up. "He's been a deputy marshal for years, Mike. What makes you think he'd take a deal like that in the first place?"

Watson started to speak and Norton cut in. "I got a better idea. Him and that marshal are pretty good friends. If we had Dillon, we could get Haggen to do just about anything we wanted."

O'Hara looked apprehensive. "You want to take on Matt Dillon?"

"He's a man just like any other man," snapped Norton. "Now here's what we'll do..."


	5. Chapter 5

Festus yawned as he walked down Front Street, rattling doorknobs. Last round and then home to bed. The memory of his recurring nightmare rose before him and he shivered and looked up the street, wondering if Doc was still awake. He was heading back the way he came when he heard a low whistle from an alley. The deputy's hand drifted to his gun. "Who's there?"

"Festus Haggen?"

"That's right. Who are you?"

A man came forward into the light. He was tossing something up and down and as Festus peered at him he grinned and suddenly threw it to the deputy. Festus caught it automatically, his eyes widening as he realized it was a United States marshal's badge. The stranger drew his gun at the look on the deputy's face. "You can see we got something to talk about."

Festus scowled. "I can see I'm gonna squish you like a bug if'n any harm's come to the man this here badge b'longs to."

The stranger's grin widened. "Your friend's all right. What we want to talk to you about is keeping him that way." He gestured with the gun. "Drop your gunbelt."


	6. Chapter 6

Matt gritted his teeth as Festus rode into the camp ahead of O'Hara. The deputy looked carefully at the marshal before swinging out of the saddle and squatting by the little fire to warm his hands. Matt was gagged and bound to a tree but appeared unharmed and Festus grinned. "So y'all really do got Matt Dillon." The three men traded looks as he went on. "That ain't a easy thing to do...how'd you manage it?"

Norton grinned back. "Didn't seem so hard to me. All we did was stir up a little racket back of the jail and he walked right into us. He's a friend of yours, isn't he?"

A bitter expression crossed the deputy's face. "I thought he wuz. All them years watchin' his back, workin' for him...bleedin' for him!" Festus shook his head. "Then he let that Agent Doyle take me off to Rock Crik to get hung with nary a word."

Watson spoke up. "I heard he broke you out of jail to save you from the hangman."

Festus helped himself to coffee and stood up. "Wuz that what you heerd?" His voice turned cold. "The onliest reason he done that wuz 'cause he'd got to thinkin' all them folks wuz so sure I wuz Frank Eaton he must be wrong. Oh, he busted me out all right. Then he give me a choice...a thousand dollars for him or straight back to the gallows for me."

Watson frowned. "That don't square with the Marshal Dillon I heard about."

Festus walked over to Matt and looked down at him. "You don't know him real well. He's got hisself a good reputation as a lawman, but he don't pass up money. Why do you think he's such good friends with that woman who owns the Longbranch? He's been takin' money off'n her for years." He turned away. "I went back to Dodge with him 'cause I knowed he'd be watchin' me like a cat at a mousehole. I been waitin' for a chance to get away from him and this here looks like the best I'll ever have. Yore friend here tolt me what you want me to do and I don't mind a'tall...not if'n you give me a stake." He took a gulp of coffee. "I figger I got that comin' after almost gettin' my neck stretched on yore boss's account."

Norton eyed the deputy. "What about Dillon?"

The deputy shrugged. "What 'bout him? You don't need him now, do you?"

"So you don't care if we kill him?"

"Well, 'course I care!" said Festus sharply. "Didn't I just get through tellin' you I almost got myself hung? I ain't lookin' to put a rope 'round my neck over no lawman." He went back to Matt and leaned over him, jerking roughly at his fetters. "These ropes is tighter'n a tick. Just leave him here...if'n he wants to set there till he dies that ain't no concern of ourn." He stooped swiftly and pinned Matt's badge to his shirt. "There you go, marshal. That'll come in handy if'n anybody ever finds you...least they'll have somethin' to carve on your tombstone." The men laughed appreciatively as the deputy removed his own badge and dropped it on the ground. "They can have that too, for the next fool wants to turn lawman."


	7. Chapter 7

Norton came out of the ticket office and headed for the saloon, pausing at the sight of Festus leaning against a post outside the swinging doors. "Why ain't you inside wettin' your whistle? It's gonna be a long ride to Wichita, you know."

Festus shrugged. "I know that. You get the tickets all right, did you?"

Norton held them up, grinning. "First class all the way."

"When does the train leave?"

"In about an hour." Norton started through the swinging doors. "Sure you don't want a drink?"

Festus' eyes ranged up and down the street. "I'll do my drinkin' in Wichita when we get that money."

"Suit yourself." Norton went inside and joined Watson and O'Hara at a table near the doors where they could see Festus.

Watson asked, "Don't he want to come in?"

Norton shook his head. "Can't say as I blame him. I wouldn't be too eager to drink with somebody who was gonna shoot me."

O'Hara was surprised. "We ain't said nothing to him about that."

"Don't you think he can figure it out for himself?" asked Norton in exasperation.

"I been thinking about that," said Watson. The other two looked at him and he fidgeted in his chair. "All I mean is, well...something about Haggen don't seem right. I thought that marshal was supposed to be a friend of his."

"What of it?" asked Norton roughly.

"I don't know," Watson said slowly. "Me, I woulda shot that man, not left him tied up there to die slow like that..."

"I didn't hear you complaining none when we left," said Norton.

"I ain't complaining, exactly," said Watson.

Norton got to his feet. "I don't want to talk about it no more. I'm going over to the station and catch the train to Wichita. Are you coming?"

He headed for the door with O'Hara, and after a moment Watson followed them. The light was very bright after the dim interior of the saloon and the three men waited to let their eyes adjust before stepping down into the street.

"Hold it."

Norton's eyes widened in surprise and fear as Matt stepped out from the alley next to the saloon. The marshal's gun was drawn and the three men froze. Festus was still leaning against the post and he grinned as Norton looked back at him. "I b'lieve I tolt you fellers Matthew warn't a easy man to get."

"You lying, sneaking, dirty double-crossing..." Norton snarled. He whipped around to face Matt and the marshal cocked his gun. For a moment the five men were very still, then Norton's hand fell to his holster.

Matt took him down, then dropped O'Hara. Watson had his gun out and was firing point-blank at the marshal when Festus landed on him, sending the bullet wide. Matt watched helplessly as Festus and Watson struggled savagely for the gun, then there was a shot and the deputy fell to one side. Watson grinned in triumph, raising the gun towards Matt, then looked down at the spreading stain on his own chest. He dropped to his knees, pitched forward on his face, and lay still. Festus got to his feet, breathing heavily, and stumbled to Matt. "You all right, Matthew?"

The deputy's bruised face was filled with concern for his friend and the marshal's throat tightened. He took a moment to collect the guns, then said huskily, "I would have been here sooner if this was sharper." He passed Festus the pocketknife the deputy had pressed into his hands the night before while he was checking the ropes.

Festus took it, running his thumb over the edge. "Well, you dulled it up real good, so I s'pose I'll have to sharpen it now." Townspeople were collecting and the local sheriff pushed his way through the crowd. There were explanations, accompanied by shaking heads and raised voices and waving hands, then the bodies were removed and Matt and Festus were free to go.

The marshal handed Festus his badge and the deputy pinned it on, saying softly, "I got to tell you somethin', Matthew, 'bout last night..."

Matt cut in. "You don't have to say anything, Festus. I already know you didn't mean what you said."

"I figgered you did, but them fellers wuz fixin' on killin' me oncet they got their money." The deputy smiled a little but his eyes were desolate. "I been thinkin' what a sorry thing it'd be if'n those wuz the last words I ever said to you."

"It wouldn't have been a sorry thing to me, Festus." Matt blinked away his tears. "Not when I had the rest of my days to remember that what you said saved my life."


	8. Chapter 8

Thurlow Wilson, manager of the First National Bank of Wichita, Kansas, was in the vault when a teller came in and said, "Mr Wilson, there's a Mr Frank Eaton to see you."

"Frank Eaton!" Wilson brushed back his hair and smoothed down the front of his suit, then took off his glasses and polished them. The teller gawked until he snapped, "Well, don't just stand there! Go tell him I'll be right out." The man hurried away and Wilson took a moment to compose himself, then walked into the bank.

Frank Eaton was sitting in front of his desk and he rose as Wilson approached him. "I come for my money."

"Of course, of course," said Wilson. "Have a seat, Mr Eaton." Eaton sat and Wilson wrote out a bank slip and handed it to him. The man looked embarrassed and Wilson smiled timidly. "Just make your mark right there, Mr Eaton. That'll be fine." Eaton drew an _**X**_ on the signature line and Wilson waved to a teller, handing the slip over. "Do you want a bank draft or will you be taking that in cash?"

"Cash." The teller went to the vault and Wilson seated himself, frowning in puzzlement. Aside from an odd twang in his voice, Eaton seemed much the same-clean shaven and well dressed, but there was something about his eyes...Wilson had only met Eaton a few times, but he remembered the man's hazel eyes being as hard and lifeless as two bits of stone. They were different now-soft and expressive, radiating kindness and gentleness, and for a moment the crazy thought flitted across the bank manager's mind that perhaps this was another man and not Frank Eaton at all. The teller returned with a small valise and Wilson banished the notion. No doubt he had dined too well at lunch and he handed the bag over without a single misgiving.

"There you go, Mr Eaton. Do you want to count it?"

Eaton looked at him keenly. "Why? Ain't it all there?"

Wilson chuckled nervously. "Of course it's all there. Procedures of the bank, you know...ask everybody...rules and regulations..."

Eaton stood up. "Much obliged." He walked away and Wilson pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his face.

The bank teller watched him leave, then whispered to Wilson, "So that was Frank Eaton?" Wilson nodded and the teller whistled softly. "Didn't ever think I'd meet him and live to tell the tale."

"Thank God he's got his money now," said Wilson. "If I never meet him again it'll be too soon for me."

Matt and Agent Doyle were waiting across the street as Festus came out of the bank. "Here it is, Matthew. That bank feller said it wuz all there."

The marshal opened the bag and counted the money, raising his eyebrows. "Festus, there's over fifty thousand dollars here."

"Is that a fact?" Festus shook his head. "Agent Doyle, are you gonna be able to find any of the folks this here money was stole from?"

"I'm going to do my best. Are you sure you don't want a reward, Mr Haggen? You're certainly entitled to one."

"No!" Matt and Doyle looked at Festus and he lowered his voice. "I don't want nothin' that passed through Frank Eaton's hands...not so much as one red cent. If'n you got anythin' left over whyn't you give it to some orphanage or somethin'?"

Doyle looked inquiringly at Matt and the marshal smiled. "I'm with Festus on this. Doesn't your organization have a widows and orphans fund?"

"We do, but nobody has ever been so generous to it before." Doyle regarded Festus with respect and held out his hand. "Mr Haggen, it's been a privilege to work with you."

The deputy gripped Doyle's hand, smiling warmly. "Same here." Doyle shook hands with Matt and walked off and Festus felt his chin. "Matthew, what would you think 'bout waitin' here for a few days so's to give me a chance to get to lookin' like my old self?"

Matt regarded the deputy with amusement. "Well, I don't know, Festus. Maybe you should stay like that...you look more respectable."

Festus snorted. "If'n Frank Eaton wuz respect'ble lookin' I'd ruther look disrespect'ble." He tugged at his collar. "I cain't wait to get outta these clothes and back in my own duds."

"All right, Festus." The marshal clapped his friend on the shoulder. "What do you say we take the train to Hays and ride the rest of the way back? We can pick up some supplies and do a little fishing on the way home."

"Sounds good, Matthew." Festus smiled brightly. "Just don't forget the coffee this time."

Matt looked sternly at the deputy. "I'll get coffee only if you let me fix it."

"What's wrong with my coffee?"

"Festus, I've been telling you for years what's wrong with your coffee. Instead of riding off with Eaton's men you should have made them some coffee. That would have finished them off and saved us both a lot of trouble."

"Golly bill, Matthew, that's harder than I'd slam a door. You been spendin' too much time with old Doc. Yore gonna be just as mean as him if'n you ain't careful."

The marshal grinned. "He is pretty tough, isn't he? You sure you want to go fishing without him? He's gonna be pretty hard on us as it is if we take our time getting back."

"I'm sure." Festus smiled at his friend. "Don'tcha think now we finally laid Frank Eaton to rest for good'n all we done earned us a little time off?"

Their eyes met and for a long moment they found themselves reliving the nightmare Frank Eaton had been to them. That nightmare was finally over and as they read the relief on each other's faces Matt smiled broadly and said, "Festus, I think we've earned a whole week off."

The two friends started for the train station, leaving the shadows behind, and looking forward to the trip that would take them home to their family.


End file.
